There was that time
by firsttimefan
Summary: "Of course," she snorted, disgusted. "Blame it on the shoes." First of some one shots. All characters at times will pop up. This one is Castle and Beckett.
1. Kitten Heels

Then there was _that_ time

**One in a series of one shots. Completely random. Enjoy...oh and they aren't mine.**

Kitten Heels

"It was bound to happen sooner or later," Castle didn't seem to get his foot in his mouth fast enough to stop the words escaping. However with the careful transfer from standing to the couch complete, he just sat at her hip and the relief of having her finally settled removed the brain-mouth filter.

"You don't want to patronize me right now," she growled.

He stayed quiet for a whole thirty seconds. "I mean, it could be a whole lot worse," he tried to explain."You know considering the way you went over on it like that."

"Of course," she looked disgusted. "Blame it on the shoes."

"Well…"

"Well nothing, Castle," she snapped. "My shoes had nothing to do with it."

He wisely stayed quiet.

"When it's me, everyone automatically assumes it was the shoes," she continued. "But if you sprain your ankle, everyone would just say, 'Well, it's Castle'. I'll have you know there is nothing inappropriate about my shoes. I spend the majority of my time sitting down."

"And the rest of the time engaging in shoot outs and chasing criminals through dark, heavily littered alleyways which trip countless New Yorkers everyday."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Don't get cute with me."

He hand up his hands in defense. "How about some more ice?" he offered. "Rest, Ice, Compres…Ah! Kate!" He squealed as the condensation covered icepack made full contact with the back of his neck. "That's cold!"

"Well I guess that answers your question," she smirked, unable to repress some of the snark. "I don't need any more ice."

"I think you could do with cooling down," he muttered and pushed himself up. "I'll be back in a minute."

"God," she exhaled to the ceiling.

It was mortifying enough to have slipped during the takedown, but the way he hovered and the way the rest of the precinct smirked, especially the boys…it had used up all her patience. Now she was snapping at him because he was just reminding her of the fact. Couldn't he just be thoughtful about something else until the memories faded from her memory a little?

"I'm glad it isn't worse," his voice preceded him back into the room.

"Castle," it came out a plea. Couldn't he leave it alone for just a few minutes?

"No, seriously. I rolled on my ankle once in a laser tag game with Alexis and it was a lot uglier than this. It looked like I'd crammed a baseball down my sock," he absently lifted the fresh icepack and repositioned it carefully.

"Yeah, well you might actually have the heels to thank for it looking this good."

"Because they?"

"They really work your legs," she offered with a tight lipped teasing smile. Castle was definitely a legs man and she knew he would appreciate that. "They also really focus on your knees and ankles; strengthen them."

"That can't be good for you in the long run," he observed.

"Probably not," she admitted. "But it came in handy today."

"I would agree if I didn't think they were the reason behind all of this in the first place."

"Castle, trust me. I know by now if any misstep I make is because of my shoes."

He seemed content enough to accept that. "By now? I assume there is a story behind that statement?"

"One or two," she admitted candidly.

"Just one or two?" his eyebrow raised in questioning delight.

"I've been wearing heels a long time, Castle."

His face lit up at the chance to ferret out some new information. "How long is long?"

"Are you really asking me how long, Castle?"

"Oh, Kate. I happen to know for a fact you have no issues with length," he paused to kiss the protruding ankle bone. "But all attempts to evade my question are futile. I'm asking you how long you've been wearing these shoes."

"Every little girl walks around in her mother's high heels at some point, Castle."

"Some boys too," he confessed.

"What?" she laughed.

"My mother's friends loved dressing me up backstage when I was between Nannies."

"You're serious."

"Oh yes. It's well documented."

"Oh, this I have to see."

"Tit for tat, honey. I know you have some photos somewhere."

"I do," she agreed, oddly eager to share them with him. "But for those I want to see Alexis's photos too."

The energy they had revived never flagged and he said it so easily, but his return hit her low. "She never really did that- the exception to your rule."

"Martha never abducted her?" Kate deliberately avoided the Meredith subject, her throat still suspiciously heavy. So smooth.

"She wasn't living with us when Alexis was little, and she was working a lot more then too," Castle explained easily. "I did come home once to find her made up straight out of CATs though," there was a nostalgic smile growing on his face the longer he obviously recalled the image.

"Please tell me you took photos," Kate smiled, wanting to share the memory.

"It would have been criminal not to," he looked offended. "But, no more distracting me. I am the Master Interrogator, thank you."

"Fine," she gave in, preparing to have a girls night in with her boyfriend. "My first pair were for my junior prom. They were these strappy silver things and looking back I'm pretty sure they had these low wedge heels," she laughed at the memory. "I wouldn't even count them as high heels now."

"And?" he pushed eagerly.

"And I was so proud of them I wore them around home for a week to wear them in, feeling so grown up and tall," she shook her head, looking back on it now and thinking what her parents must have been really thinking. They had made sure to drop compliments often, which had secretly (she thought) delighted her, though she acted embarrassed and annoyed every time. What teen needed fashion advice from their parents?

"That can't be the end to the story," Castle broke into her reminisces. "Where is the disaster?"

She snorted, "They came off after about an hour on the dance floor."

"What no injuries?"

"I don't even think it's possible to go over on things like that. That came later when I lost the chunky training wheels."

"Do tell." If he had a tail she imagined it would be wagging.

"It kind of went an inch at a time, like resistance training," she recalled. "One hour then two hours the next time," she shook her head. "The first time I hit more than four inches out clubbing with my friends at Stanford, I spent most of the night sitting down."

He grinned.

"Not that I minded all that much," she smirked. "It got me a lot of free drinks."

"I don't doubt," he sounded admiring. "I'm still not hearing the disasters. You promised me stories, Beckett."

She chuckled, looking away from him down to her swelling red joint, or what she could see under the ice poultice. She was proud to admit she didn't have many impressive can-out stories. Catching the heel on uneven pavement was hardly worth mentioning. Getting her heel stuck in a grate? Too _Wedding Planner_._._

Most women in heels over a certain height went over on their ankles at least once a day, however minor. It was almost expected. After the first few months, her heart rate didn't even blink at the sudden loss of balance. Those could not be considered stories by any stretch of the imagination.

If it was an actual story, she really only had one.

"Okay," she gave in. "I do have one."

He rubbed his hands together gleefully, "This is going to be good."

"Know however, that this story is never to be retold," she warned him and he just nodded eagerly. Kate smiled, already feeling a blush at the memory. She had not been as gracious at the time. "I was at Stanford. I had only been out there a semester and my parents wanted me to come home for the break, but I had managed to just get myself a part-time job about month before and I didn't have any time off."

He looked at her knowingly.

"It's not like that. When I got away from home, I actually began to realize how cool my parents were, so it's not like I was avoiding them per say."

"Per say?"

"There might have been a guy I liked working there," she admitted with a cheeky grimace. "Who had just broken up."

"Scandalous," he sounded delighted and it made it easier for her to remember the incident without the underlying grief she always felt for not going back and spending that last holiday with her mother.

"Yeah, well," she shrugged. "Anyway, by that point I had tried starting to match some of the upperclassmen who were always tripping around in these amazing autumn boots. I say amazing now, but looking back, they were completely impractical, it's a good thing LA doesn't get a lot of precipitation. So my roommate and I got a pair each."

"Debbie Winnaker?"

"No, she was my roommate at NYU."

"Understood. Continue."

"I was working at the Barnes and Nobles closest to our place. It wasn't the best pay, but it made for flexible work hours I could fit in with my timetable, plus there was coffee and a discount on the books."

"You worked at a bookstore?" he asked in surprise.

"Keep up, Castle," she shook her head affectionately. "I was getting a lot of close shifts after my classes and picked up extras during the holiday, and I didn't mind the late nights. I met some interesting people and the regulars were always good for a chat when I worked in the cafe."

"And this boyfriend of yours worked closing too, I'm guessing."

"He may have," Kate acknowledged.

"I'm still not seeing how this ties into high heel hell."

"Trent was easily 6'2. At first I didn't mind the difference, because I thought I could make it work, looking up at him through my lashes, but after a couple of weeks, I had to admit I wasn't getting anywhere and started wearing the boots. Needless to say, that by the end of my first shift in them, I was almost ready to cry."

He didn't bother teasing her, just sitting tense with an expectant energy as he, Master of the Macabre, was completely engrossed in her narrative.

"It would have been mid week, because I remember the wait at the emergency room wasn't that long. It always tends to get crowded with drunks in the weekends but we only had to wait a half hour or so," she shot him a sly look and sure enough his mouth had fallen open.

"The hospital?" he squeaked, shifting his eyes to scan her ankles as if he expected to find emergency surgery scars.

"I was shelving just after the doors had been closed. There was a new book coming out the next day that the manager wanted all set up on display the night before. Which was fine. Trent was working that night so I didn't mind, but he was sent to work on the displays on the floor while I got to stock the actual cases."

"Too bad. Two young lovers alone in a bookstore at night? Totally hot."

"Castle!" looks like he recovered from his hospital imaginations.

"Don't deny you were thinking it at the time," he scoffed.

"That's beside the point," she returned primly. "I don't need my boyfriend now thinking about me with anyone else."

"Accepted. Continue."

"I was up on the ladder," Kate continued.

"Oh no," Castle groaned. "Don't do it."

"Do you mind?"

"Yes, I do."

"In my heels," she added impishly, accurately anticipating his groans. "I kept the box balanced on the top rungs and loaded the shelves from there. I don't even remember the book now, it might have been a travel writing thing by one of the celebrities, I remember being in the travel section. Anyway, Trent finished up early and came to give me a hand so we could get out of there, passing up the next box and holding the ladder steady."

"Did you get to talk?"

"No. He was more the strong and silent type. Years later, I still appreciate silence in a man."

"Were you in a skirt?" he ignored her.

"Yeah."

"Explains why he was speechless."

"Give the guy some credit, he wasn't as perverted as you."

"College boy," he disagreed, his tone added the _duh_.

"He was passing up the last box for the top shelf, but he didn't have enough upper body strength and the box slipped when I reached to get it, he couldn't get it above shoulder level. I wanted to try and catch it, but in the heels, I wasn't too steady up there anyway. As it happens, the box hit the ladder on the way down and I had to jump ship. It was the first time I had ever really jumped in heels, so I think my heart rate got a little dangerous for a second there when the adrenaline kicked in. Luckily I tried to land on my balls rather than the heels."

"Oh god, and you went over on the heels anyway? Because of that wimpy idiot?"

"No," she gave a throaty chuckle. "I stuck my landing, but the ladder came down anyway and hit Trent in the head- knocked him out and left him with about four stitches."

Castle looked jubilant. "Serves him right," he gloated.

"Castle!"

"What?" he whined. "Give me minute to bask in the just image before I have to go back to being a responsible adult."

She shook her head and watched as the grin faded and he sighed contentedly.

"So?" he prodded.

"So?"

"That's it? That wasn't your fault. Where is you tripping and falling on your face?"

"Oh, that happened later. With the way Trent was bleeding, I took him in to the Emergency Room once I brought him around and sat with him until a doctor could see us. He was a little unsteady so I had to help the nurse get him to the treatment clinic. He vomited on the way from the blood loss."

"Too much information."

"And," she continued. "I knew the very moment my heel caught it and I slipped. I could feel it give out and I ended up on my butt."

"Not in the vomit!" Castle sounded appalled.

"Thankfully I missed that, but I will never forget how slippery lino and stiletto heels do not mix."

"Are you serious?"

Her eyebrows both rose and her mouth pursed cheekily, "Yes?"

"Really? So did this traumatic incident bring you and _Trent_ closer? It obviously failed to put you off high heels."

"Uh, no. I had to fill out incident reports with him the next day and I think he was so embarrassed after the play by play, he quit."

"Such a shame," Castle said, shooting for earnest with an almost severely straight face.

"Yes," she smiled. "Yes, it was."

He grinned at her and repositioned the ice pack again. He was right, it didn't look that bad. She attributed it to the heels, all the little turns she made on them strengthening her ankles, but she knew it was more his insistence that she had stayed desk-bound with ice while he got her cleared to go home.

"And that, Mr. Castle, is my story."

"Yes, yes it is."

"I seem to recall payment was due? Some photos of Castle junior and senior while I'm laid up?"

"Laid up, are you Detective?"

"Yes. Now show me those photos."

"Yes, dear," he sighed with exaggerated resignation, earning him a kick to his behind from her good foot as he stood up. He squawked and she laughed, watching him limp into his office where he kept his albums.

Richard Castle was a genuinely good man. So often she was distracted from the fact, the overall truth. Sometimes he was a good partner, sometimes a good friend, a good cook, a good father, a good lover. But in the end, she was every so often taken off guard to acknowledge that all these combined made for one hell of a guy.

Her guy.

The only one who could make her smile when she was so close to screaming.

"Kate!" The exclamation from the entranceway startled her from her staring match with the door Castle had disappeared through. The movement drew her breath through her clenched teeth and the ice pack slid from her ankle to the floor.

She opened her eyes and saw Alexis heading straight for her, the heavy bag slung over one shoulder dropping loudly to the floor.

"What happened?" Alexis blurted, concern vivid across her face.

Before Kate could reply Castle slid into the room, his shoulder clipping the door jam when his socked feet didn't stop when the rest of his body tried to. His face was identical to his daughter's at hearing the loud thump and she couldn't help but shake her head at how ridiculously cute they were even when she was annoyed, because really how could you be less than touched that they cared?

"Nothing," she assured both of them. "Just a sprained ankle." The relief that swept over Alexis' face was strong enough it took her off guard; she wasn't really sure what to do with it.

"What happened?" Alexis approached the couch and bent gracefully to retrieve the ice pack.

"Just tripped on some stairs," Kate shrugged, accepting the ice from her with a smile.

"In her defense she was fully running down them," Castle decided to join them, album tucked under one arm.

"Really?" Alexis blanched and dropped her eyes to Kate's ankle. After a few seconds, she hesitantly offered, "It doesn't look _too_ bad."

"It's not," Kate told her. "A day or two and I'll be fine."

"Kate Beckett, Super Detective," Castle intoned, kissing Alexis' cheek and replacing Kate's feet in his lap. "Don't you have class, sweetie?"

"Cancelled," she shrugged, sitting down on the arm of the couch at Kate's head. "So, what were you guys going to do today? Movie marathon?"

"Actually," Castle told his daughter brightly. "We were just discussing our firsts."

"Oh my God. Dad!"

"Castle!"

…


	2. The Steps

The Steps

The lack of calories were finally kicking in. All week Jenny had been proud she had made it a whole week without food, but it seemed her come-uppance was a real kicker. This combined with her mother texting every half hour with place card questions, on top of not seeing Kevin all day had put her over the edge.

They should have eloped.

"Why are we doing this?"

"What?" His startled blue eyes put a hitch in her grumbling thoughts. She knew there were blue eyes, but what did you call _really _blue eyes?

"Honey?"

"This," Jenny swallowed and tightened her grip around his hand, wondering how long it would take him to get tired of holding his arm up and supporting hers.

"I thought you…" Kevin turned to look at her.

"Mr. Ryan, keep your focus over her left shoulder!"

He flinched guiltily under her and Jenny couldn't help a stutter of laughter at the small jump her fiancée gave at the barked reprimand. Was it pathetic that she loved he would jump at an old lady well into her sixties?

"We're taking these lessons for our wedding dance," he muttered. "Does she really think I'm going to be able to take my eyes off you?"

She could feel herself blushing, a little taken aback at the offhand way her fiancée said it: as if the whole world should already know the answer.

Her height left her at quite a disadvantage so she had to shake off his hand before she could take his chin in her hand and assure him the feeling was mutual. Unfortunately, it wasn't the surprise it would have been if she were taller and could have taken his mouth by force, but there was something equally satisfying about him looking down at her in puzzlement and then watching the happy realization and anticipation dawn in his eyes as she moved in on him again.

She barely had time to let herself sink into him and repossess his mouth after a day apart, her heeled dancing shoes lending her a delicious angle, before the moment ended.

"Ms. O'Malley!" this time she was the one that jumped.

"Not for long," she breathed, releasing her hold on Kevin's, now flushed, neck. Dancing wasn't so bad.

"You're going to have to stop that," he groaned and the squeeze in her stomach all day migrated south into a longing.

"What?" she teased.

"Breathing down my neck like that."  
"I kind of like it," she giggled.

She wasn't sure if it was the lack of calories that had her lightheaded, or if he had just managed to put her over. She did not giggle sober without a heavy helping hand. Yet she was.

Three days. She could stand her mother that long. The angle of Kevin's jaw drew her eyes along it to his sensitive ears, up into his hair and lead her to his knitted eyebrows. He was trying so hard, even if he was useless at hiding things from her.

Three days. She could do three days if she got them out of here and got them a pizza. They were both going to need all the calories possible. Her wedding night was not going to be spent passed out from hunger.

…

He chose not to answer his fiancée's offer, instead carefully stepping forward to continue their slow waltz across the room.

Kevin Ryan had no idea what the music was, never really one for the older songs their teacher preferred. It was both relaxing and irritating at the same time; it was so smooth where he was decidedly not. Challenge accepted. Regardless of his fiancée's feelings on the matter he was going to floor everyone – on the floor. And not a drunken jig like last time either.

He entered the first turn, careful of his feet, puffing out a breath of air and snapping his head back up- he was really going to have to remember that. It was Esposito who had told him that looking at your feet was probably the most annoying thing to dance instructors.

Head up, head up.

Don't stand on her feet.

Don't freak there's only three days to get this right. Less than three days now actually. Sunday.

"Kevin?"

"Yeah, honey?" despite all the things he was worrying about, she made him smile, although it felt a little twisted on his face as he tried to multitask.

"Why do you smell like toothpaste?"

His lead faltered but they somehow managed to avoid a full trip when he paused too long with his leg between hers. "Because I brushed my teeth."

"I know, you tasted minty."

Was he blushing? Oh crap, he was so busted. What was she going to do when she found out? He couldn't sleep on the couch without waking up as crumpled as Rumplestiltskin.

"You know limes are very acidic," he floundered. "So drinking that juice all the time without brushing just didn't seem like a good idea," he offered, flustered. Oh man, he was so bad at this kind of thing.

Jenny just smiled and bumped her lips against his shoulder, "I love you."

It served to throw him further off his game and he was so obviously flustered he wanted to bench himself. Sometimes it was hard to believe he was a detective; he was so transparent. Jenny was still smiling like she already knew about his secret indiscretion.

"It's a well known fact that limes are acidic," he justified weakly. "Police don't have the best dental plans." Try not to blink. Act casual. Balance your eye-contact, don't stare her down but don't look away, that means you're guilty.

"If you say so," she agreed, amusement twinkling behind her eyes.

"Mr. Ryan," the old woman sighed in exasperation from off their shoulder.

"Ma'am," he sucked down air.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, not at all," he shook his head a little too enthusiastically.

"Did Ms. O'Mally distract you with the quarter?"

"A quarter?" he twitched guiltily, images of steak and hamburgers going through his mind. Quarter-pounder…

"The quarter turn?" the instructor prompted patiently.

"Oh," he smiled nervously. "No, she's perfect."

"Delightful to hear, dearie. Now shall we try again? Hands…that's right. Now if the young lady could just…perfect. Now you don't need to be so close, we're not trying a tango and we wouldn't want you get anything on your lovely dress, would we?"

He looked at her blankly.

"Had a little accident at lunchtime today, did we?" a blunt finger scratched lightly at his shirt where he was horrified to see a fairly conspicuous stain of soy sauce. He must have done it when he was bolting down the food in the car. He tried to swallow and shot his attention between the stain and Jenny's face fast enough his stomach quivered in protest.

"Not to worry, love," their dance instructor continued kindly. "A good soak and that'll come right out."

Jenny just smiled back at her answering easily as his stomach continued to put vertigo through its paces, "I'll do my best to get it off for him."


	3. 56th Transfer

56th transfer.

"…to the rest of your team. Your new partner is Detective Kevin Ryan. Comes from Narc and was promoted to homicide about a month ago."

Esposito tried to muster up enough energy to look interested in the man his new captain was indicating out in the bullpen. All he could see was, not Ike.

He didn't want a new damn partner, especially not that willowy looking dude. It was hard to tell from the angle, but it looked like he was wearing a three piece suit. Esposito concentrated on making sure his lip didn't curl in disgust; of course he would get partnered with yet another prissy crusader from Narc. It seemed like that was all Narc ever turned out, electronic geeks who spied on losers dealing in the park. Not any real cops. Like Ike.

Esposito shifted his eyes from the sandy blonde in agitation, using his military training to keep his face carefully neutral and wait for his orders. Captain Montgomery continued to watch over his bullpen a breath longer, both intent and proud.

"And Detective Beckett, your team leader," Montgomery looked to the collection of three around a cluttered whiteboard.

"Team leader, sir?"

"My homicide department isn't the way they run the Gang Taskforce at the 56th," Montgomery turned to address him. "Homicide is more time constrained and I find a collaborative approach is more thorough and faster than individual caseloads. My force is split in teams. You will work with your partner, Detective Ryan under Beckett's orders."

"Yes, sir."

Montgomery stepped away to his door. "Beckett, Ryan. A minute?"

Esposito kept his attention front and center, not bothering to turn his focus to greet the members of his _team_, trying to ignore the resentment cramping his stomach that IA had sent him here to be babysat. Despite his grudging respect for the Captain, he was resigned to whatever rule-bound older man was apparently going to be holding his leash. Because there was no way Agent Asshole was going to get him reassigned with anyone less noxious than he was.

If he ever saw that insinuating son of a bitch again, it was going to take more than a leash to stop him rearranging the smug bastard's face.

Ike would never turn.

"Detective Beckett, Ryan, this is your new team member, Detective Javier Esposito. He's new blood from the 56th to replace Carver."

Esposito pivoted mechanically to meet the two detectives and felt his stomach churn when he swept his eyes over the two newcomers to the office. What the hell kind of joke was this? He was partnered with the real life Ken and Barbie.

"He commences active duty effective tomorrow morning," Montgomery instructed them. "He'll be partnering you, Ryan."

"Sir," Ryan replied, his voice devoid of any inflections.

"Sir," Esposito requested. "With all respect, I am prepared for immediate duty." He couldn't go back to his apartment to be snowed in again and his muscles were starting to acknowledge the beating he had given them at the gym that morning. Not twice in a day, he would wait until tomorrow before doing another circuit.

Montomery's face did not change under his request, just shifted his eyes to lock with the woman, Beckett. He was clearly leaving it up to his Detective to decide, a casual release of power to his subordinate which left Esposito a little off balance. Nobody gave Barbie anything.

Detective Beckett only met her Captain's eyes for a second before they swiveled to land on Esposito, hard and framed by unforgiving cheekbones and accentuated by the pixie-like screens of hair. He hadn't been prepared for those eyes. There was no hint of laziness, complacency, any contempt or interest either. Just an intensity that made him want to draw himself up and consciously make sure his spine was straight, something he hadn't done since he went through his training and learned to stand at attention. He ruthlessly tucked it away and stared straight back at her.

This was who was going to be holding his leash?

For a full few seconds they breathed together before she looked away with an easiness that had his hackles up. Damn it, he hated feeling like he lost, and her ease in turning away from him as if she hadn't even considered their exchange a challenge while he had automatically went on the defensive, poked at the barely banked frustration he had been struggling to check since he stepped out of the gym this morning.

"Ryan can bring him up to date on our case," Beckett told her Captain, waiting for a nod from Ryan.

He felt himself take a breath, ridiculously grateful to be put to work.

Montgomery nodded and dismissed them silently, letting Esposito follow them out. So far it hadn't been as bad as he imagined it was going to be; there was no condescending Captain, no long talks, just a brisk, oiled inception.

He could only assume that meant things were going to go downhill from here.

"Show him around," Beckett told Ryan, taking up her place at the board he had seen from Montgomery's office. A murder board he saw now. It was as professional as she was, the later more unexpected.

"Kevin Ryan," Ryan offered his hand, his face not as tight as it had been in the office. He still looked soft, like he should be teaching his younger brother to shave, but there was still an aura of careful candor and no trust.

"Javier Esposito," Esposito offered, taking the hand and shaking it once firmly, not making a competition of it. This wasn't Gangs. This was Homicide, graphic photos over Detective Beckett's silhouette to remind them all.

Kevin must have followed his glance, because he introduced Beckett. "Katherine Beckett," he said as an offside.

"I do know my own name, Ryan," Beckett said without looking over at them. "If you get a move on, I might actually tell him."

"Right," Ryan smiled for a second, taking any bite out of her remark. "My desk. Your desk," he indicated the two desks meeting at the seams. "Beckett's just over there."

Standard three-draw slabs and dubious office chairs. The same littering of files and reports save for the one sharing an edge with Beckett's which was empty but for tome- sized ring binder manuals and a factory penholder.

Esposito noted the unfamiliar name plate, meaningless in that he knew no one. He was the newbie. "That desk?"

"Carver," Ryan said easily. "More there than here."

"Beckett's partner?"

"I don't have one," Beckett came to join them. "Toilets are by the elevators. Gym and showers are upstairs. Break room's over there," she flipped a thumb over her shoulder to the windows covered by blinds, tucked away behind a wall partition, half made of mesh. It certainly added a new light to the term 'bullpen', literally fenced in.

"Watch out for the coffee," she added almost as an afterthought.

He nodded. She lacked the outward stamp of aggression he was used to working with in the gang task force. He caught it from co-workers as well as the people he brought down. But it had been a long time since he had been regarded with such little concern. She looked about as interested in him as she would a new piece of stationery, but he saw an intelligence in her that told him she wasn't that stupid. More like she was reserving judgment.

Bitch or workaholic, he didn't know, but she had Capt. Montgomery's interest. She didn't seem like the type that slept her way there though she was pretty enough, probably a year or two younger than him. Tall too.

"The victim?" annoyed that he was bothering to analyze his new colleague at all.

"Paula Carter, 46," Beckett turned back to her board. "Found yesterday at 7.40 a.m. by her daughter in law. Our M.E puts the TOD at about 2 a.m. Cause of death, asphyxiation, smothered with her pillows. CSU can't confirm anything stolen. Forced entry, they picked the locks. No doorman. Canvas was a bust." Esposito couldn't help but realize her eye never moved from the DMV photo. All of the information as recited by rote. "Mother of two. Worked at New Amsterdam Bank and Trust for twelve years. Financials are healthy, marriage appears steady. No irregular behavior in the last few weeks or conflicts the family and colleagues knew of."

Smart.

"The husband?"

"Three day business trip in Buffalo. The alibi checks," she frowned. "Ryan, get back on the bank surveillance and records. She might not have picked up on it but someone somewhere who wanted her dead. Especially looked at any financial terms, mortgages and loans she worked with in the last month. "

"And me, Detective?" He kept the term as bland as he could. He figured he stood as much chance being the fetch-and-carry bitch for the rest of the day as newbie, as being assigned to the most boring insignificant task she could find him.

"Reread all the canvas notes, her building, family and coworkers. Fresh eyes might pick up on something."

Or she could know exactly what she was doing and really put him to work.

…

Well he had been right about one thing so far: the chair was uncomfortable.

So far, things hadn't slipped all the way downhill, but he reasoned there was still time. Shifting the reports from the to-read pile to the read-and-useless pile was a task so different as to be new. It was as if everyone who had ever seen Paula Carter so much as walk down the street had given a statement. Who did that?

Since when did people actually talk to police?

Only in homicide.

A signed, official statement was like a four leaf clover in Gangs. He heard a rumor Det. Slaughter had to coerce statements, off the record, by throwing sources in waste-disposal trucks.

Sure, it was insane, but if it got him any closer to the bastards who riddled Ike and his car, he would start lining up anyone who had been within a miles radius.

Speaking of four leaf clovers…with a name like Kevin Ryan, the guy across the desk from him had to be Irish. He had hardly heard a peep out of the guy who, highlighter in hand, seemed to silently go through page after page of figures. There was a focus and a confidence there that Esposito hadn't considered likely when his pressed suit entered the Captain's office. The guy ironed his everything which in Esposito's experience meant either pansy or still living with his mother.

A quick survey of Ryan's desk on the return trip to familiarize himself with the case on the murder board, revealed very little in the way of personal touches, only a wooden photo frame propped against the penholder. But Capt. Montgomery said he had only been here a month. There was a reflection of the overhead lights obscuring the faces in the photo beneath the glass. The only impression Esposito could get was a lot of people.

It was pretty safe to say they weren't members of his old unit.

Family?

With that many people he'd have to be Irish. Very Irish.

"Saint Patrick's Day."

The statement startled Esposito into looking up, in the process realizing his eyes had been trained on the photo, probably for a good minute now.

"A passport for drinking as much Guinness as you want and tossing around your nieces and nephews in the annual Leprechaun Toss."

"Leprechaun Toss," Esposito repeated slowly.

…


	4. No Touching

**Standard disclaimer. **

**Merry Xmas, make it a good one and put your faith with your friends and family. **

…

"Richard, give it back."

He took in the petite blonde woman in front of him with a swell of brotherly pride and raised a glass in a silent toast. No," he smiled.

"Castle, give it back," there was a laugh mixed in with the resigned tone to Ryan's voice.

"No can do," he apologized.

"Rick," even Kate's tone lacked some of the flagging patience it would have otherwise.

"I heard about this game," he announced, waving Jenny's phone for emphasis and reclaiming his seat next to Kate in the booth, scooting in close and he felt the amused huff of her breath over his neck. He twisted and gave her a peck on the lips, tasting vodka just briefly before pulling away, snaking an arm around her now that she had moved forward and into him so he could snag her clutch.

When she saw he had taken it, he gave her a second in thanks before opening it and fishing out her phone as well.

Lanie chuckled from Beckett's other side and Esposito wandered back over from the bar with a fresh bottle, Ryan and his wife inexorably drawn in as well.

"Come on, sit down," he told them when he saw the eclectic mix of standing and sitting members of their circle. "And put your phones on the table." He led by example, placing his own and the two he had confiscated face up on the pitted wood of their customary booth.

"Dude, if something happens to my phone," Esposito muttered in good humor, freeing said device from the inner jacket pocket and adding it to the pile.

"Nothing is going to happen to it," Castle reassured him. "Lanie?" he asked the woman who was watching him with open amusement.

"Come on, Lanie,' Kate nudged her. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Don't make me regret this, girl," she rolled her eyes but added her cell along with Ryan.

"Excellent," Rick beamed. He made sure all the phones were safe in the middle and face up before rubbing his hands together and ordering a round of shots with a wave to his barkeep.

"You never said it was a drinking game," Jenny said with a pout. "You know I can't drink. That's why we're here."

"You won't be drinking," he told her. "You are the honorary judge."

"Judge of what?"

"Well, we're all going to make a bet, see. Until the game is over, no one is allowed to touch their phone. If they do, you get to order them a round of shots – any shot you want and they have to drink down every single one. We're going to bet to see who caves first. Ryan will take your share, I'm sure."

"Castle!" Ryan protested flinching under the sudden backslap Esposito delivered him.

Kate however was laughing. "We all know who is going to crack," she shook her head. "You can't go half an hour without fiddling with Rick Jr."

Lanie let out a hoot and gave Kate a small high five, "I'm with you on that one."

"I'm going to have to put my money on my boy here," Esposito grinned, clapping a hand on Ryan's shoulder.

"Me too," Jenny leaned into her husband's side and scooting a hand into his belt hooks. "I'm counting on you making losing interesting."

"That'll be the pregnancy hormones talking," Lanie whispered for the rest of the table, giving Jenny a knowing wink. "Wants to take advantage of her man." Jenny blew her a kiss and the rest of the table went red with laughter at Ryan's brilliant blush.

"I'm betting that Esposito over there is our man," Castle recovered first, almost set off again by the indignant flare that set up camp on his friend's face.

"Man, why do you have to go and out the finger on me?" Esposito complained.

"Someone had to," Castle shrugged. "Lanie's too much of a dark horse." He raised his glass and reached around Kate to clink it with the ME.

"Yeah but why me? Ryan's got calls from almost all of Ireland calling to congratulate him."

"Just keeping it interesting, Detective."

"You are going down Writer Boy," he growled.

"That's not what you said a minute ago," Castle reminded him sweetly.

Esposito just groaned and turned to Kate. "How do you put up with this guy?"

"Don't ask," Kate suggested archly.

Castle grinned and nuzzled his nose into her neck, her tendons staying put rather than turning into it the way she usually did, meaning she was staring Esposito straight down. He nibbled at her collarbone because he couldn't help it and wasn't sure if the groan came from her or Esposito.

"You are so on."

…

The attention focused so carefully on any fixture of the Old Haunt except the phones was painful. Conversation starters began to include appreciation of the woodwork, inspection of the complementary peanuts and critiques of the bar they had claimed as their own. Despite no one betting money or favors on her phone ringing, Kate found at least every second thought to be about who could possibly call. Her father didn't really call outside their weekly catch up, their latest case was closed, and all the other numbers who regularly called her phone were trapped in the same limbo.

She was safe, right? There was no way Castle would be able to outlast her anyway. SHe did not want to be doing six shots.

All members of the booth and one hyperalert older man in the next booth jumped when less than five minutes later a phone went off. Derspite the distinctive ring tone, everyone peeked at the phone before relaxing with a sigh. She felt almost dirty, sneaking a peek. But she was allowed to look and it wasnt her phone. She looked at the Irishman in the booth who had two sets of six shots riding on his inability to leave hisphone alone.

Ryan's hand didn't flinch towards it at all, leaving him with a self-satisfied smirk across his face.

Next was Lanie's. Kate immediately recognized the woman whose picture was lighting up the screen and looked at her friend questioningly when Lanie happily ignored it.

"Aren't you going to get that?"

"No," Lanie grinned, her bangled wrist moving over the table to pull a shot towards her voluntarily though she obviously had no intention of picking up her phone. She knocked it back gustily and let out a whoop. "Oh, God. I've wanted to do that for so long." The smile was almost wide to split, and she upended the shot glass enthusiastically on the table. "Don't get me wrong, I love my Momma, but that felt so good."

"You go girl," Castle congratulated her.

"Just 'coz you could never hang up on your Mom, Castle," Esposito scoffed.

"Like you would," Ryan snorted reaching across to feed the birds with Castle who was obviously delighted with Ryan's support. Kate could barely restrain a laugh either; she had met Momma Esposito, Parish and Martha. None of them were the sort of woman she would want to leave hanging.

Ten minutes later, Esposito's phone lit up. As if a magnetic field had suddenly been generated every member at the party was drawn forward in their seats to track the incoming call.

"I am amazing," Castle boasted as Esposito rocked back in dismay. "Bro, you are doing six shots of Sambuka, because I called it. I. Am. The. Man."

The ringtone was insistent but Esposito made no move to silence it.

"Answer your phone," Castle frowned.

Esposito didn't budge.

"Espo, it's Captain Gates. You can't just ignore her," Beckett patted his shoulder in sympathy.

Esposito's hand stretched out but just as Castle flagged a passing waiter, Espo's hand veered off and grasped one of the remaining whisky shots on the table and throwing it down with none of the relish but the same determination Lanie had.

"Sambuka shot," Esposito rasped, jerking his thumb at Castle. "For this guy."

"What?" Castle protested.

"For even thinking that I was going to be the first to cave."

…

When Castle's phone lit up with a text message she couldn't help but let out a little chuckle; victory was going to be sweet. He looked torn, like he was genuinely in pain when Lanie picked his phone up and waved it in front of him.

"It's Alexis, Castle. You sure you don't want to see what she wants?"

"Hey, no touching!" Esposito protested.

"He just said I wasn't allowed to touch _my_ phone," Lanie corrected him primly. "Well, Castle? Little Castle on the line."

"Could I bribe you into reading the message for me?" Castle asked trying to dredge up his charm.

"Hell no. Little Castle is about to win me this little bet."

Castle snarled good-naturedly at her and grabbed Kate's hand, dragging her out onto the dance floor out of earshot of his phone.

…

Castle had put a lot of effort into retaining the integrity of the Old Haunt when he bought it, the era and the history. So when he didn't have someone tapping away on the old upright, he had the old greats pumping smoothly out over the bar, quiet, just a nod to atmosphere except a corner he had kept clear towards the back. That open stretch of scuffed wood had a few more speakers lending Ella a stronger voice here out of the direct lights as Castle cradled Kate closer on the unofficial dance floor.

He never told Kate, but it was an attempt to make the place more accessible for the friends and family of those who drank alone and dangerously. Some of his old regulars just in it for the atmosphere could bring their wives, their legal-aged families and take a lazy spin or shuffle around to the music, just quiet enough to let them loose themselves. There was a romance here and he wanted to share it more than he wanted to give them a quality drink.

It got a little livelier on occasion when requests came in, Eddie pounding out jazz, blues and boogie woogie in the subdued lights.

As it was, the opening drum beats of Ella Fitzgerald's _Night and Day, _gave him the perfect throb to pull Kate into some formal steps, the formal fluid moves he so rarely utilized taking his mind off what his daughter would want enough to call from her dorm.

She spun in from the turn and molded herself into him, close enough that he saw the tendons in her neck pull when she leant her head back to look into his face.

"Hey, Big Daddy," she greeted him quietly, eyes soft.

"Hey," he returned, closing the distance and feathering his nose along hers, so grateful for the peace of mind she gave him. Her hand came to rest warm off the back of his head, sheltering him close, halfway between his ear and his neck.

"You didn't count on Alexis texting, did you?" she murmured, fingers running circles tight against his scalp.

"Didn't even think about it," he agreed, pulling back to see her eyes were a mix of humor and sympathy.

"Do you want me to check the message?" she offered.

"Not if you want to win that bet."

"I thought you knew by now that I'm not after your money and I don't need to get you drunk to get what I want."

"Does that mean you've seen something else that might interest you?"

"Perhaps," she granted, letting her nose flirt slowly with his.

…

"Oh that has to be the cutest thing," Lanie sighed. She nudged her elbow into Esposito's ribs where he sat quietly talking with Ryan beside her and all three watched the partners slowly revolving around to notes they couldn't quite make out back in the booth. "That has to go on their wedding invitation. Ryan, take a photo."

The man didn't pause, just giving Jenny a kiss to her temple and picking up his phone, touching his thumb to the photo app on the main screen.

It took some time for him to master the zoom function, and in the dim lighting Lanie could see it was hardly going to be a professional quality shot. Without using a flash it wouldn't do it full justice but he waited until they turned, snapping a good angle. It was only as he withdrew it back into his chest to check his shot after the disturbingly loud shutter sound that Lanie looked closer at the device in his hand.

"Ryan," she said slowly.

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

"Taking a photo?" he asked looking confusedly from one face to another. "Like you said?"

"Bro!" Esposito crowed. "Thank you!" he grabbed up his phone and was already calling Gates back. "Yo," he hailed Brian behind the bar. "I need six shots of Vodka for my boy over here!"

Ryan gaped at Esposito's retreating back- obviously trying to ferret out a quieter spot to apologize to his boss, before turning to Lanie. "You tricked me!" he sounded injured.

"I didn't mean to," Lanie put him off. "I just wanted that photo, which you will be sending me by the way."

"What?"

"That photo. I want it."

"No," Ryan shook his head. "The way I see it, it's your fault so you have to share some of the blame."

Lanie's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Kevin Ryan."

"I'll send you the picture if you take two of the shots."

"Two shots!"

"One?" Ryan reconsidered taking in the woman's outrage. "A shot for a shot?"

"Consider it a personal favor," Jenny interceded on her husband's behalf. "For my winnings I'm ordering him six shots of Schnapps and a woman in my condition shouldn't really be carrying her husband in and pouring him into bed."

Lanie looked somewhat mollified, looking over at Ryan with a somewhat pitying glance as Brian lined up the six shots from Esposito and Jenny ordered the next six.

"Fine, one shot," she agreed, shaking her head at Ryan. "But the vodka is all yours. Never could hold your liquor."


End file.
